Ghosts
by OMightyWifeofShinigami
Summary: Benton has ghosts of his past visit him, nothing is as it seems and never ever trust a dog. CHAPTER 5 UP!
1. Chapter 1

Ghosts

Disclaimer: Nope don't own them, but darn it if I did, I'd share with everyone. Idea and new charas are however mine... mine!

Warnings: New charas, AU

Rated: PG-13

Archive: Um here I suppose, if any one wants to, they can put my story up on their site. As long as you tell me so I can check it out

-Notes- An AU, but if you wanna place it in the series it would take place before Victoria's Secret

Feedback: Most definitely welcome, I need it like I need oxygen... so give me life!

'Blah blah' - indicating thought

------ - Indicating time change or memory

''''''''''''' - indicating scene change

High winds in northern sky will carry you away

You know you have to leave here

You wish that you could stay

There's four directions on this map

But you're only going one way

-Due South

"Has anyone seen my report?" an ebony haired woman half shouted at anyone that passed by her. She shuffled through a few manilla envelopes on her desk, before frowning deeply. "Great just great," she said to herself, knowing no cared to hear her. Elaine sighed, wanting to stamp her foot in a childish manner but instead settled on placing her hands on her hips. She had just gone to the copy room to copy a paper for filing, maybe been gone for five minutes at the most and when she had returned, her report that had been sitting neatly on her desk was now missing in action.

The woman sighed again, lifting her head and spotted a file in a man's hands. "Detective Gardino? Louis is that my report?" She stalked off after the man.

The Chicago Police Department was in a frenzy. The hustle and bustle of activities were a reminiscent of a hive; busy working bees buzzing back and forth all under the order of the powerful Queen er rather King that barked orders and all snapped to attention. The air was thick with the smell of stale doughnuts, old coffee and sweat. Not the most pleasant thing to first smell when one came off the streets but none of the occupants of the department seemed to notice or care as they scurried to hurry with their jobs so they could end their shift and go home to a nice warm bed.

Frenzy would put it lightly.

Two street cops came off from the street, dragging a man in handcuffs who was singing about the Apocalypse, an angry cut and bruise forming above his right eye, he stank of rotten fruit and three of his teeth were missing as well as his left shoe. He started in on another song, the two officers jostling him as he tottered back and forth and ran into a figure standing in the middle of the room.

The heavily clothed figure stumbled, a hand reaching out to grasp the end of a desk to steady itself before rightening slowly. A green tattered pack was slung over both shoulders, a heavily downed sleeping bag tied atop by bits of twine and a shoelace tied a small metal pot that banged quietly against a zipper as the person who was dressed in heavy winter gear took a step forward. In an instant a large Husky dog appeared beside the figure, pressing into it's side as if it too didn't want to get stepped on. Sky blue liquid eyes soaking in every detail of the busy place. The dog whined softly, looking up at its master who bent slightly, rubbing behind a floppy ear that looked as though it been torn in half.

Shifting the straps of the pack, the figure moved slowly, a slight limp to it's gait into the rush of moving bodies. The squeak of the metal and leather brace that surrounded the person's left leg was drowned out by the nonstop humming of voices. A door to the left opened and a large man stepped out.

"Elaine where's that report?"

"It's coming Lieutenant Welsh," the woman yelled back, feeling her nerves beginning to fray. She brushed back a few curly ringlets of hair from her face and mentally rolled her sleeves back up, the Civilian Aide patch on her shoulder only making her more determined to find the report. With the recent overflow of drug smugglers from the North to Chicago, the 27th District was swamped and that meant longer hours, grumpier people with guns and no time for showers. Weren't there other cities or states that were capable of drugs being smuggled into them?

"Excuse me ma'am?"

Elaine looked up, ready to throttle whoever was bothering her. She glanced down at the Husky then back up at the person. She raised an eyebrow at the heavy winter clothing but decided she didn't want to know, nor did she care at the moment. "If you need to file a complaint or report a crime, the front desk is back that way."

"Oh no, thank you but I'm looking for someone." The person pulled a folded piece of paper from a pocket the dark green coat and slowly unfolded it. "A Benton Fraser. The Consulate sent me here."

"Fraser? Eh yeah, over there." The woman pointed behind her towards a desk that was near where the elder man's office was. Normally if anyone ever looked for Chicago's resident Canadian, be it male or female, most paid attention but at that moment a corner of a folder caught Elaine's eye, poking out from the trash receptacle near her desk. Retrieving it, she dashed off over to Welsh's office.

The Husky yawned and licked the fingers of the stranded figure, feeling his master's troubled mind. The fingers then curled into a timid but determined fist and moved again in the direction where the woman had pointed. Three men sat in handcuffs in front of Welsh's office, one looked like he had just come off the street, the other two were of the white-collar kind. Moving past the men slowly the two came upon the desk, a metal name card read "Detective Vecchio, Raymond" half hidden by a loose stack of scattered papers and files, half a sandwich and an empty can of pop.

The person sighed; their search had ended abruptly. There was no Benton Fraser here. Dark blue eyes glanced down at the faithful canine. Looked like they'd have to head back to the Consulate to make sure they had been given the right directions. The Constable Turnbull had been quite a character, giving the oddest directions.

"Come on, we best head back before it starts to get dark." The silver and gray haired dog gave a low whine in protest but obediently followed its master. One ear twitched and raised, the canine glanced around as he heard a voice above all the others. Sniffing the air, he searched through all the scents and let out a soft bark only to be cuffed gently by the heavily geared person. A hand rested atop the dog's head, the other hand came up to lift the fur lined hood. Voices fluttered from the stairs of the Precinct and a man dressed in a brown suit appeared, followed by a man in a red Serge.

"Listen Fraser, if I want some Eskimo's quote on how the beet is the orange, I'll ask for it."

"Ray, Ray, Ray." The Canadian held back the urge to sigh. "That would be a Chinese Proverb."

"What?" The brown haired man stopped trekking up the steps. "Fraser I don't care what it is, just don't say it. I'm not in the mood for it right now."

"Understood."

"And stop staying understood."

"Understood." Fraser removed his Stetson as the two men arrived finally at the top and held his hands behind his back, giving his partner a thoughtful look. "Is this about the case?"

"No Fraser I like getting pissed off about quotes and Chinese vegetables." Vecchio ran a hand over his face and through his thinning hair. "I just wish we could get a break and nail these guys." Ray practically had to shoulder his way through a group of officers blocking his way to his desk, he could hear Fraser excusing and pardoning himself around everyone.

The Italian Detective bent over his desk, leafing through a few papers and picked one up, reaching for the water bottle. Finding it empty he tossed it in the trash, bouncing off the edge before falling in. Score for Ray, he thought. He looked up, something was missing. Oh that's right, Fraser's voice. He turned, catching sight of a dog but turned his attention fully to the Canadian.

"Fraser? Fras, hey?" He waved a hand in front of his partner's face that had turned a weird shade of white. "Benny, you look like you've seen a ghost." Not receiving an answer he turned, following to where the Mountie was staring.

Benton's eyes widened to a unacustumed saucer like state, his hands clutched his hat so tightly it creased around the edges, his mouth felt like sandpaper when he tried to swallow and his heart skipped a beat. The heavy winter clothed person had paused in lifting it's hood, blue eyes catching his. A timid smile appeared though it was a bit hesitant and the hood fell freely, revealing curly hair the color of tangerine and rust. The locks framed a face that been weathered a bit from harsh climates and yet only made the youthful beauty stand out. Fraser couldn't breathe, the room suddenly felt hot and stuffy, closing in on him and the only thing he could muster, came in a breathy whisper...

"Mum?"

--Notes from OMWOS--

First DS fic, the idea has been in my head since '95 and I've finally decided to write it.


	2. Chapter 2

Ghosts

Disclaimer: Nope don't own them, but darn it if I did, I'd share with everyone. Idea and new charas are however mine... mine!

Warnings: New charas, AU, a bit of blood

Rated: PG-13

Archive: Um here I suppose, If any one wants to, they can put my story up on their site. As long as you tell me so I can check it out

Notes An AU that takes place before Victoria's Secret

Feedback: Most definitely welcome, I need it like I need oxygen... so give me life!

'Blah blah' - indicating thought

------ - Indicating time change or memory

''''''''''''' - indicating scene change

This truth drive me

Into madness

I know I can stop the pain

If I will it all away

-Whisper, Evanescense

------

Blistering gales swelled like a tidal wave, crashing down upon the ice fields of the Yukon. The wind howled like an angry wolf, echoing around the lone sledder that had dared to ride through the storm. The excited barking of the huskies was lost in the moaning air and the elderly man hunkered down more in his coat, feeling more and more thankful for the fur lining. He urged his team onward with shouts of encouragement, knowing he was only a few miles away from a warm fire and family.

His eyesight may have been failing in his older years, but it didn't miss the dark blur on the horizon. The sledder gave a yell and the team of dogs slowed, a few whining in protest of stopping and the man gave another gruff shout. The dogs quieted, laying down in the snow. He wiped a bit of snow from his goggles before pulling them off, letting them dangle around his neck. He saw once he had gotten closer that the black blur had become three bodies, half hidden in the falling snow. Bright red blood had melted the snow around their heads where the dark circle on each of their foreheads told of a bullet wound.

The man looked around him, feeling the chill of fear mingling with his already cold body. He couldn't see anything in this weather and quickly scrambled back to his sled, giving another shout at his team of dogs that leapt into action, all wanting to return home. The sledder slapped his goggles back on and sank down, allowing his team to move forward through the storm, missing the pair of binoculars that watched his every move.

------

The Detective rested one hand on the table, leaning forward, his eyes dark as he glared at the red haired woman across from him in the appropriately dubbed Interrogation Room of the Police Department. He gave a nod before straightening, tugging at his suit to make it settle across his lean shoulders. "All right, I'll ask you again, what is your name?"

"Sarah Sattler, sir," replied the woman who had now been divested of her pack and coat, both sitting on the table in front of her. She sat awkwardly in a metal chair, left leg at an angle, allowing her canine to rest beneath it and the table, the dog's liquid eyes watching Vecchio's every move.

Fraser felt the cool water on his face but it didn't seem to help ease the troubled mentality as he looked up at his reflection in the Men's bathroom. Blue eyes stared back, the same as that woman's. That was impossible; there had to be another conceivable conclusion to why that woman... why that woman looked exactly like his mother. It was like seeing a ghost. He could still feel the prickling of tears against his eyes.

"Where are you from?" Ray sat down in a chair, eyeing the woman. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties; it was hard to tell with her baggy and loose clothing. He could have sworn she had just walked in from a blizzard by the way she was dressed.

Sarah glanced behind her at the large window that reflected everything in the room then back at the man. "Paulatuk Canada. It's in the Northwest Territories." She rubbed a hand down her left thigh, running down the metal brace. It was beginning to ache again but she said nothing about it. Her other hand found the end of her braid and tugged on the end with uneasiness.

"How'd you get here?" It took everything he had to not look down at the dog. Huey and Louis had tried to remove it from the Department but it had snapped at them, nearly taking a hand and a few lower limpbs. Neither one made a second attempt.

"I used my sled, then I walked, then I took a train and then I walked again." Though the answer was phrased in a sarcastic way, there was no mockery to her soft voice.

Ray raised an eyebrow; so far the woman seemed Canadian enough. "You said you went to the Consulate?"

"Yes sir. A very polite Mountie gave me directions here..." She trailed off as if she wasn't sure she should continue. "He seemed a bit high strung."

Turnbull. Vecchio could only imagine the directions the woman received from that neurotic Canadian. Hmm, neurotic Canadian, two words he didn't think went together. "So you're saying you walked all the way here? How long did it take you?"

"Well I... well, my team of dogs average about thirteen miles an hour and that's only if I don't run into any obstacles. Then I can walk about three and a half miles an hour, taking into account of rests and-"

"I don't need the problem, just the answer."

"A week and five days. I did get lost." Sarah felt like her head was swarming, the glaring lights felt warm against her skin making her fur lined pants stick to her in the most uncomfortable way. The room felt like it was slowly closing in and the man; presumably Detective Vecchio, was making her unhinged by the second with his constant questioning. She never did like small rooms or being interrogated of how she had arrived at the police station.

Benton tugged at the hem of his Serge even though it wasn't out of place then set his Stetson on before taking it off and placing it in the crook of his arm. He then looked himself over before exiting the Men's bathroom. He had regained composure, reasoned with himself. He was probably tired; he had been spending more time awake working with Ray on the newest case of drugs that were leaking in from the North.

Stepping back in the moving sea of bodies, Fraser looked around for his partner and the woman. Not seeing either, he turned to the nearest Officer. "Excuse me Elaine, have you by chance seen Ray?"

The Civilian Aide looked up from her computer. "Yeah, he's over in one of the Interrogation rooms with some woman."

Huh. Why would Ray be in Interrogation? "Thank you kindly Elaine." Ben offered a friendly bow of his head and headed off down the halls. Reaching the first one he knocked, but didn't receive an answer. Peering inside he found there was no one there and went to the next.

Knocking again he was acknowledged by his partners voice, "Yeah come in Fraser."

Upon entering he found the woman was practically squirming in her seat, boot scuffs evident on the floor, her hands folded so tightly her knuckles were turning white. His immediate reaction was concern for welfare of the woman. "Ray," he scolded. "This is no way to treat a lady." He turned his attention to the woman "I'm terribly sorry ma'am. You must forgive my rude behavior."

"Why you apologizing Fraser? Don't apologize. Besides we treat female criminals the same as guys."

"Yes Ray, but she's not a criminal."

"We don't know that."

"Ray we can't assume she is a criminal. We would be in the wrong, second that would a illegal in jurisdiction under the law of the Chicago Police and the RCMP, and third that would be just rude."

Vecchio made an odd sound, blowing the air through his teeth. "Since when do Chicago cops care about being rude."

The red haired woman felt like she had been pushed aside by the argument the two were having when her large dog finally stretched and moved to it's feet slowly, giving a low growl towards Benton and Ray. His fur rose along his back as he took a menacing step forward, moving to stand guard in front of his master.

"Skyler, akropiyok," came the voice of the woman and Fraser felt a tug of a smile at the familiar language. The canine then dropped deferentially, eyeing the two men across from him. The woman then rested a hand against his head. "I'm sorry," she replied softly, scratching behind the torn ear. "He doesn't like a lot of noise."

Glancing between the two men she continued quickly, "I didn't mean to cause any trouble, perhaps I should leave. I can go back to the Consulate." She felt defeated and worn out, the last couple of weeks hadn't exactly been kind to her.

A wince crossed the woman's features and Fraser's eyes immediately went down to the metal brace on her leg that jutted out from the side of the table. As soon as he did, she must have sensed his gaze and the leg slowly moved back and forth, attempting to pull it back under the table.

"Ma'am, if I may be so bold, may I inquire the reason you're here?"

Sarah lowered her head and pulled a folded piece of paper from her coat pocket. "I'm looking for someone... my brother." She stumbled over her words, "He's apart of the RCMP, stationed here in Chicago." She unfolded the paper, smoothing out the wrinkles. "... His name is Benton Fraser."

"I'm Benton Fraser."

Sarah looked up at the soft spoken words, her fingers splayed over the paper. Again she caught his gaze and held it, before slowly lowering as if noticing every detail of him for the first time. "I'm Sarah... Sarah Sattler."

Ray's eyes did their retake of Fraser's, widening as he glanced back and forth between the two Canadians. Ben had a sister? He sure didn't tell him about her and by the looks in his partner's eyes, it was apparent he didn't know either. "You mean to tell me, that you're Benny's sister?"

The woman's eyes snapped back to the detective. "I, I don't know." Her fingers returned to smoothing out wrinkles from the paper.

"Yeah?" Vecchio asked, his posture growing ridged. "I don't buy it. You sure don't look like each other."

"I hardly believe it myself." Sarah pushed the paper forward, allowing Ray and Ben to see it. "I was adopted, it's rather complicated but my grandparents, they're my legal guardians, passed away and wrote in their will that," she stuttered, her lips quivering. "That they found out who my real family was." She closed her eyes, refusing to look up as tears stung her eyes. She wondered how she would react when she found him; this wasn't quite what she had planned.

Fortunately for her a distraction intervened. The door of the Interview room opened with a bang, startling Skyler that was beginning to doze off and he growled deeply but remained under the table. A golden badge flashed in the bright light. "Hey, we just got a lead on those smugglers at the pier. Lt. Welsh wants you two to head out there."

"Yeah," Ray stood up, feeling a satisfied smirk coming on at the slight bitterness in the other man's tone. "We'll be there in a sec Huey." The detective moved towards the door, pausing at his partner's side. "Fraser?"

The Mountie who had remained silent turned his gaze to the Italian, his expression unreadable as so many other times before settling back on Sarah. "Miss Sattler, I'm afraid I must be called away by duty." As if out of thin air, he pulled a pad of papers from his Serge, followed by a pen which Ray couldn't figure out from where it had come from and jotted down something. He folded it and held it out towards the woman.

"Taking into your attire, I'm presuming you just arrived today in Chicago. This is the address of my home; the building isn't very far from here. I'm positive Elaine would be very kind and give you directions if need be. Normally I wouldn't be so forward, but taking into today's revelation I would like to speak more with you. There is privacy to relax from your long trek."

"All right, lets go Benny," Ray's voice signaled he was getting tired of the pleasantries; they had a case to crack. He, however, did grab the sheet of paper the woman had pushed towards them and scanned the contents, realizing it was a copy of her grandparent's will.

Sarah accepted the folded paper, holding it like a fragile bird's egg then looked up at the Canadian. Appreciation and awe swirled together in the blue eyes. Before Ben could see anymore he was nearly pushed out of the room by his partner and the door closed, sealing away the woman.

Raymond placed the will on his desk before tucking his hands in his pockets and strolled towards the stairs. He knew he should keep quiet but everyone knew that wasn't going to happen. "So... she really your sister?"

Benton placed his Stetson on his head, fixing it in place before heading down the stairs in silence.

--Notes from OMWOS--

My Inuvialuit, Inuktituk, Eskimo, etc is a little rusty... so hopefully these really do mean what I think they mean. I'll try to spare you from my horrible translations

"Skyler, akropiyok"- Skyler Sit/lay down

Credit due here

Sattler was suggested by a good friend and I loved it, so kudo's to her

Skyler is based off my own dog... but smarter and different name... and smarter


	3. Chapter 3

Ghosts

Disclaimer: Nope don't own them, but darn it if I did, I'd share with everyone. Idea and new charas are however mine. Due South is merely being used temporarily for fun and will be returned to it's rightful owner

Warnings: New charas, AU

Rated: PG-13

Archive: my own site and if any one wants to, they can put my story up on their site. As long as you tell me so I can check it out

-Notes- An AU that takes place before Victoria's Secret

Feedback: Most definitely welcome, I need it like I need oxygen... so give me life!

'Blah blah' - indicating thought

-------- - Indicating time change or memory

''''''''''''''''' - Indicating scene change

Long lost words whisper slowly to me

Still can't find what keeps me here

When all this time I've been so hollow inside

I know you're still there

-Haunted Evanescence

"Thank you again."

"Don't mention it lady." The door of the apartment jingled and swung open with a loud creak, banging gently against it's jam and Sarah stood in the doorframe, a elderly man retreating slowly back to his own apartment. The woman glanced around, eyes wide, taking in the new sights, her breath heavy from the many flights of steps. Her canine Skyler sniffed the side of the door before padding in, his tags jangling, breaking the silence.

"Nutsuitok Skyler," the woman hissed. "Skyler? Skyler!" The husky reappeared, waging his tail slowly at the Inuktituk command as he sat down a few feet away. "Maiksuk," she shook her finger, scolding. The dog's reaction was to yawn and settle his old frame down, resting his nose on his paws, staring up at his mistress. The woman's stern features softened, a smile appearing and she shook her head slowly, a few strands of red hair falling free from her braid as she took a couple of steps into the front room, closing the door.

She had found Benton's home without too much difficulty and his neighbors had been most kind in pointing out which door was his. Shuffling, Sarah pulled the pack from her shoulders, giving a step forward with her good leg as she was thrown off balance. Skyler lifted his head, tilting it sideways. "I'm fine," she reassured her canine. "You spend two weeks with this on your back." She dropped it down out of the way and unzipped her coat, shrugging it off. So far the front area of the room was bare, the dingy walls had nothing on them, not even paint. Strolling forward at a limping amble, the woman folded her coat, draping it over her arms as she found the kitchen.

Standing in the small area, she glanced around again, unsure of how to react to the sparseness of homey things. The place didn't feel lived in and yet it was warm and cozy, small but not enough to overwork her frazzled nerves. Sarah pulled a chair from a small table and sat down gingerly, making a face of pain as she stretched her left leg out, running a hand down her thigh again. The jangling of dog tags and clicking nails reached her and Skyler appeared from the living room, dropping beside her with a groan of his own.

The woman smiled tiredly. "We're getting too old for this eh?" She bent down, giving a good scratch across Skyler's head and ears. She dropped her coat on the table in front of her and folded her hands. "So we found him." Liquid cerulean eyes blinked up at her, catching the quiver in her voice with a keen sense of hearing.

"What do you think of him?" Sarah asked after a moment of silence. "He seems nice... and polite." The husky let out a soft bark, followed by a whine that said the same thing she was thinking. The woman sighed, a hand reaching for the end of her braid and tugged thoughtfully on the end. Her brow creased and she frowned. "Did you see his face when he saw me? I thought he was either going to hug me or kill me." Both made the butterflies in her stomach; she so expertly hid, rise and make more racket.

"Do you think I did the right thing by coming here Skyler?" She looked down for affirmation but only received a few blinks and a tilt of a head. "I know," she took a glimpse out a hazy window only to see a brick wall. "I couldn't stay. Not after…" Turning her gaze back to her folded hands, she trace a burn mark on one of her palms feeling the sting of sweat drying on the wound and tears blurred her vision but refused to fall. The large dog ambled back up to a sitting position, giving a few comforting licks on her pants' leg and a hand dropped atop his head.

Silence filled the apartment that neither one cared for but was all she had at the moment. Her mind however was a jumble of thoughts. He didn't seem to know me? What would happen now? Could she learn to forgive and forget? Would her Grandparents be proud of her now? Will he like me?

'''''''''''''''''

The Pier. A dank, smelly, cold and overall not a place for an Italian to be. Now a Canadian, who knew? Ray shuffled his feet, sliding against something soft and mushy and he rolled his eyes, not wanting to look down as the large wolf sniffed along the ground in front of him. Lake Michigan sparkled like a sapphire jewel through the fog and trash collecting near the shores. Small fishing boats bobbed up and down with the flowing current of the water, a gentle but cold breeze blew through the maze of crates that were stacked four high on the wooden pier.

Fraser stood atop one of the mountains of crates, peering out over the Lake, his red Serge like a beacon of hope and light to any other fishing boats that were coming into port. Eyes scanning the horizon of the water before dropping down to where he stood, catching a bit of faint white powder along the seam of the crate. Dropping to his knees he ran a finger along the edge, picking up the substance and brought it his nose, smelling then finally flicked his tongue out.

Vecchio looked up where the Mountie had disappeared. 'I bet he's tasting stuff again.' he thought as he strolled forward, his own gaze sweeping back and forth finding bits of white powder along the ground and stuck to the side of unmarked crates. There were many labeled and unlabeled crates here, jumbled together by some idiot who wasn't paying attention. So far all the unlabeled crates had traces of the cocaine. He knew what it was without tasting it, that's why they were here in the first place.

Emerging from the maze, the Detective glanced towards one of the Pier forklift drivers. He looked like a kid, with mousey brown hair and glasses; he looked like he belonged in High School. The worker looked up hopped off a crate he was sitting on and dusted off his uniform, his hat twisted in his hands. He looked guilty like either he had seen something or he thought he was in trouble with the crates.

"Jack Miller?"

"Eh yeah that's me," the forklift driver mumbled.

"You're the one who found these crates?"

"Yeah. Uh look, can I get back to work, I don't want to get in trouble with the boss. It's only my third day here." He had been the one that had reported the unmarked crates, but it was his boss Livingstone that had called. He sounded angry when Fraser had tried to calm him down and get some info out of him. But despite the Canadian's soothing manner, it only seemed to piss the old guy off more.

"Sorry kid, you're going to have answer some questions. We can do it here or down town, it's up to you."

Jack sighed and hopped back up on a crate. "A'ight. What do ya need to know."

"For starters, were you the only one that found the crates?"

"Nah, there was Sam and Mike. Sam's over there," he pointed behind him at one of the forklifts and Mike went home for the day. Said something about his kid being sick."

Vecchio nodded his head. "Did you touch anything?"

"Um, no, no." Jack slipped his hat back on, pulling it over his eyes.

Ray raised an eyebrow. "So the temptation of just a little sniff never occurred to you?"

"No, yes, I mean maybe." The man looked ready to bolt at any second, but Diefenbaker's piercing stare kept him tethered to the crate for now.

A resounding thump made both men turn to see Fraser who smiled at Jack. "He doesn't know anything."

"So, I can go?"

"Yes." Ben said as he strolled towards Ray, his hands tucked behind his back. Dief yawned and released the worker from his glare and looked up at his master and friend. "Thank you kindly for your patience and cooperation."

"Yeah whatever," Jack eyed the large wolf before sliding away to retreat back to his forklift.

Vecchio ran a hand through his thinning hair; he seemed to be doing this a lot lately. "You let him go free?"

"Hmm, oh yes Ray," the Canadian glanced up, his Stetson hiding his eyes briefly. "He doesn't know anything, these crates were unloaded last night, they have a collection of Larus delawarensis droppings that's at least that old."

"Larus dela what?"

"Seagull, well more a common lake gull Ray."

"Of course. So by how crusty the seagull crap is you can tell these crates arrived last night?"

"Yes, Ray."

"You didn't taste them did you Benny?"

"No Ray, there's no need to. By simple observation one can tell how old the fecal matter is. I also did find mold on the bottom, Myxomycophyta a typical species that grows mostly in dark and damp places, such as the cargo hold of any freighter or even a small fishing boat. The mold is still fresh, there hasn't been enough time for it to dry; taking into accounts the relatively cold weather we've had lately, thus it arrived last night."

The detective rubbed a hand across his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, so the crates were unloaded last night and the owner of the place-"

"Livingstone," Fraser interjected politely.

"Livingstone doesn't have any documentation of any night deliveries, there were two forklift drivers on night duty, no security cameras and no fingerprints and we got... squat."

"It appears for the moment... yes," the Canadian replied in the same tone as he glanced towards the open waters. "But I would talk to the two men in duty, they may have seen something."

Captain Obvious ran through Ray's mind as he watched his partner. "You know Benny, with the light just right, you look just like a statue ready for some common gull dive bombing practice."

"Hmm, yes Ray."

Vecchio scratched his forehead before running a hand through his thin hair. There were times he was certain the Mountie was a few sandwiches short of a picnic but he hadn't seen the man this distracted since… never. It didn't take a genius to know it was the Sarah woman on Fraser's mind. Tucking his hands into his coat pockets, he said. "Look, there's not much goin' at the District, why don't you head on home and talk to...this Sarah Sattler."

"Ray-"

He cut off any arguments with a wave of his hand and a stern look. "I'll see you tomorrow Benny."

--------

The team of dogs barked excitedly as a lone cabin came into view, a dark smudge in a field of white. Smoke drifted from the snowy roof, dancing in the wind before disappearing. The sled moved past it, the man guiding it easily towards a barn that stood several yards away, it's red paint faded and chipped with time. The dogs eased at the gruff command and waited impatiently as the driver clapped the snow from his gloves and slid the door open. He then traipsed back to his faithful companions and undid their harnesses.

The lead dog barked and dashed into the barn, the others following as if they still ran as a team. The man smiled, tugging back his hood and pulled his goggles off painfully. He was getting too old to do this anymore, he thought as he groaned, bending down to retrieve a large bag of dog food. Bustling around, he fed and watered the dogs before closing the wooden door behind him and headed towards the cabin.

He stamped his boots, shaking loose the snow that clung to him and unzipped his coat as he entered the dwelling. He was immediately greeted with flickering candles and the roaring of a fire, followed by the tantalizing smell of a stew bubbling on the cast iron stove. He smiled, hanging his coat up on one of the pegs on the near wall, tugging his hat, scarf and gloves, laying them down on a wooden inn table. Beside it several photos with smiling faces looked back. Tucking his hands into his flannel shirts pockets, he glanced up at the elder woman sitting beside the fire, the rocking chair creaking in a familiar rhythm. Beside her feet slept an old dog. His ears twitched, one slightly shorter then the other. The canine yawned and looked up with ice blue eyes, his tail thumping slowly along the floor in a greeting.

The man shook his head, walking over to the woman who was busy crocheting. The brightly colored yarn wove through her gnarled fingers, weaving them along the dangerously pointed hook with a fluid skill. For a while, he watched, fascinated with the speed that had come from years of practice. The colored afghan draped along her legs, trailing along the ground. A smile formed on her lips, her eyes never leaving her hands even as she paused, setting her work in her lap and rubbed her fingers as if they ached. The man rested a wrinkled hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently before slipping his hands down; he encased her hands on his, rubbing them with care and stole a kiss from her cheek.

"Adam," the voice aged with years of hard labor laughed brightly, rubbing a hand across her cold cheek. "Come sit by the fire." She gestured to his armchair across from hers. "And warm yourself, Sarah's almost done with dinner." She patted his hand as he slipped away from her and settled his frame in the warmth created by the crackling fire. The large dog ambled to his feet slowly and padded to his master, resting his chin on his knee.

"Skyler," the man's rough voice took on a lighter tone and scratched behind the dog's torn ear. "Keeping busy boy?" The beast looked up at his name and whined softly before dropping next to his feet.

"Ataata?"

Adam looked past his wife towards the kitchen. "Yes Sarah."

Tangerine and rust curls peered around the wide doorframe. "I didn't even hear you come in, supper will be ready in about ten minutes. I just need to take the bread out of the coals." She smiled briefly before vanishing back into the kitchen.

The rocking chair paused in it's creaking and the elderly woman set her work down again. Through shining brown eyes she watched her husband over the rim of her glasses. He slid back into his chair, one hand clutched the armrest, he set his chin on the other. His gaze reflected the coral and scarlet flames, his skin flushed from the snow and the heat of the fire. He tapped the heel of his boot against the wooden floor, the sound softened by the thin threadbare rug. His brow furrowed in deep thought.

"Adam uik," her native language flowed freely making the man look up. "What troubles you?"

The man sighed, running his fingers against the worn leather before clapping his hand roughly on his knee to shake up the last bit of snow that hadn't melted. "It's nothing Noeli."

"Adam Jeremy Sattler." His lips quirked at his full name in that scolding tone of hers. "Secrets are for children and scoundrels and you are neither." She watched her husband intently, ignoring the wisp of silver hair that fell from her braid, tickling her ear. She set her work down, folding the yarn around her hook but kept the afghan on her legs. Her arthritis acted up during the coldest times of the year and it just made her bones ache terribly.

Adam leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He folded his hands and in a quiet voice, told her about the three men he had found shot dead not more then a few miles from their cabin. He watched his wife's reaction grow from surprise to fear. "We need to contact the police."

Noeli immediately shook her head, her lips pursed in a frown. "What if whoever shot these poor men comes back."

"All the more better reason to contact them."

"The RCMP cannot do anything." He caught the bitterness in her voice. "I wont allow them to go traipsing along on my property and endangering our lives. What if this person finds out we were the ones. Think about Sarah."

He closed his eyes, running his hands over his head and through his thinning grey hair. Sarah, his precious granddaughter. Could he risk her life? She had brought so much joy and life to the couple. Adam nodded his head once before reaching out. Noeli grasped his outstretched hand and smiled, the fire reflecting in her earthen gaze.

-Notes from OMWOS-

Thank you Lucysmom for being my beta reader, you deserve many, many cookies

Danke shoen to those that commented on my last chapter, it means the world to me to have ppl take time of their day to read my little story

And thanks to my grandma who rekindled the fire to write

And now more translations from me!

Nutsuitok Skyler- Stay still Skyler

Maiksuk!- Bad thing (Exclamation)

Myxomycophyta- Slime mold

Ataata- Grandfather (I have different sites telling me it means father and other say grandfather… whatever word its supposed to be, I mean grandfather)

Uik - Husband


	4. Chapter 4

Ghosts

Disclaimer: Nope don't own them, but darn it if I did, I'd share with everyone. Idea and new charas are however mine. Due South is merely being used temporarily for fun and will be returned to it's rightful owner

Warnings: New charas, AU

Rated: PG-13

Archive: my own site and if any one wants to, they can put my story up on their site. As long as you tell me so I can check it out

-Notes- An AU that takes place before Victoria's Secret

Feedback: Most definitely welcome, I need it like I need oxygen... so give me life!

'Blah blah' - indicating thought

------ - Indicating time change or memory

''''''''''''' - Indicating scene change

In my field of paper flowers

And candy clouds of lullaby

I lie inside myself for hours

And watch my purple sky fly over me

-Imaginary, Evanescence

To be greeted by a ragged husky was not an uncommon welcome for the Mountie, nor was he to be looked over, scrutinized and ignored for Diefenbaker trotted in after him. Skyler's tail thumped twice against the floor before he raised himself up, his fur bristling as he took a closer look at his fellow canine. Fraser watched from the side, closing the door quietly as the two sniffed each other a few times, circled around once before the new dog sat down, turning his liquid eyes to the man, Dief following suit.

"Huh." Ben slipped off his Stetson and placed it on a hook near the door, spotting the green backpack. He took a moment to look over the worn materiel that was patched in several places with different pieces of fabric, all dulled by the beating of the suns rays. A small tin pot was tied to one side by a white shoelace that was beginning to fray where the metal rubbed against the knot. He was sure he had something that could be a suitable replacement. A heavy line of twine that secured a sleeping bag snugly to the top of the pack completed the ensemble. It looked goose down, the best for cold weather.

Skyler sniffed again, raising his nose and ears twitched at the clatter that came from the kitchen. He whined before turning his head, tail coming alive. "Skyler, maungarpok." The canine glanced back at Ben, daring the man to say anything to reveal himself before he yawned, his teeth a startling white even against his pale gums.

"Skyler?" The voice became oddly persistent. "Skyler, you stubborn little—" Sarah appeared from the doorway of the dining area, a brown dingy mug in her hands. She stopped short and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Mr. Frasier, I uh." The woman fiddled with the cup as if she was wringing her own hands. "I'm sorry, I was just thirsty and I ran out of water just before I crossed the borders, even though it was a good idea since Customs have been cracking down on food being…" She trailed off from her babbling and stared at her reflection in the coffee cup.

Benton cleared his throat, the ranting sounding quite familiar. "Please don't apologize Miss Sattler. It's my pleasure for you to drink my water. That is to say, you're welcome to my water." He added a heartbeat later after realizing how odd that sounded. "Well, actually it's the city's water."

Sarah's lips twitched into the makings of a smile but it vanished just as quickly. "Thank you."

He nodded at her appreciation before continuing "Please," he gestured towards the small table he used and pulled out a chair for her. He took the one across from her, scooting it closer to the table and tugged at the hem of his Serge unconsciously making sure it was straight and presentable. It was a moment later he felt the handle of his gun press into his side, realizing he still wore his belt. He shifted once to alleviate the distraction and stared across the checkerboard print tablecloth to the woman. The pattern of the cloth reminded him of a chessboard, a strategic game that challenged the mind to stay three steps ahead of the opponent.

A heavy silence filled the room as he pondered this but it was instantly broken by the jangle of tags as Skyler trotted into the kitchen and plopped unceremoniously beside Sarah's feet. He lofted a brow at the man's shinny boots and rolled his eyes to look up at him. Fraser returned the look with a friendly one, a ready witness to the dog's grumpy attitude.

"Where do you hail from Miss Sattler?"

"Sarah," the woman replied, a nervous laugh followed as she tucked a straggle of hair behind an ear. "And I'm from Paulatuk." She set the cup in front of her, twisting it slowly carefully avoiding the extra sensitive skin of her palms before reaching down to scratch behind her canine's torn ear. Diefenbaker trailed after but only to look for a handout.

"Ah, the city of coal. I used to live in the same area, at least for a little while before my grandparents moved on." He paused, lost in a happy memory. "They were librarians and we moved around lot since my father…" The image of his father stung as he trailed off. "My father was in the RCMP." He wondered what sorts of images were conjured up in the mind of the woman.

A long silence spread between them, each unsure of how to continue. Sarah fidgeted with the mug again while Benton stared at the tablecloth. Dief nudged him in what he thought was encouragement until he watched the wolf's eyes being drawn to the cupboard. 'Just talk to him,' Sarah reasoned with herself and just as she opened her mouth to speak, Fraser interrupted.

"Are you hungry?" he looked down to Dief.

"What? Oh, a little."

The Mountie glanced up, "Oh, I was…" he pointed towards the wolf but he had already disappeared. "Um, well I'm afraid my pantries are a little bare at the moment. I've recently spent most of my time with Ray or at the Consulate. There is however a cafe just a block away. It's small but the people there are quite friendly." He shifted to push the chair back but stopped in mid-rise at the persistent tugging of a braid. "I'm sorry, I'm being insensitive. You've obviously had a long trip."

Sarah released the end of her hair and leaned forward, resting her weight on her palms as she attempted to stand. "No, I mean yes." Food overrode fatigue and the mere mention of it made her stomach rumble loudly. She sighed wearily, urging her tired leg to move mentally. "I'd love something to eat." She startled at the hand presented to her and looked up through her lashes before hesitantly accepting the help.

Calluses rubbed against tender skin as large long fingers squeezed small shorter ones gently. The hands of a working man, she mused mirroring her grandmother words. She frowned in discomfort as she was pulled to her feet and Fraser let go instinctively but in the same moment Sarah stumbled, her balance astray. She instinctively grabbed for something to support her catching the Mounties forearm while he leaned forward to catch her. He kept his balance, easily supporting the woman and straightened the both of them in the awkward silence that followed.

Blue eyes stared back at him, unwavering from his revealing the bloodshot lines of many tired hours. He'd seen his share of exhausted Mounties in the service and understood each one. Benton stared back, sharing the inner moment before Sarah broke away, letting go of his arm. Only then did he realize he was still holding her and stepped back to give the both of them their personal space. He looked down at the bump of another nose, this time Diefenbaker and Skyler poking around for scraps.

"What…?" Sarah looked down at her own dog then at the wolf sitting next to him then up at Fraser with a bemused yet charmed look. Although the two canines shared a few strains of genes, they were greatly different in looks. Skyler's coat was short and reminiscent of a Siberian husky mixed with maybe a little Malmute with the curl of his tail. The torn ear and several scars littered across his body spoke of a hard life. Without taking a closer look, Fraser guessed him to be over ten years old.

"He's a…"

"Yes." Benton nodded, a note of pride in his tone. "But Diefenbaker's licensed and quite healthy, despite what he eats." Dief cocked his head back, sensing the vibrations in the air. "Stay." He spoke soundly, forming the word slowly. The wolf grumbled his opinion. "No, you need to stay here with Skyler and keep him company." He looked up. "That is, if you want him to stay."

Sarah glanced down at her dog that huffed but remained where he was, glaring at the man in the Serge. She reached down and tugged gently on a ear with two fingers before straightening. She didn't exactly want to leave him but at least one of them needed some rest. "He'll be fine." Said canine looked up at his mistress, his tail wagging slowly but after realizing the puppy look wasn't going to work, huffed again before walking off, disappearing into another room.

Benton inclined his head in the direction the husky had gone and Dief yawned before trotting off in the other direction. "Never listens," he muttered before picking up the green coat that hung from the back of a chair and handed it to the woman. He stopped himself from helping her into it when she folded it over her arms. It wasn't cold, barely 18 degrees Celsius. A nice fall day in the Northwest. "Well Miss Sattler, Sarah, I don't have a car and often it's quite hard to catch a taxi. Most no longer drive through here. At least not without reasonable cause and a lot of money."

"I can walk." The strong statement overcame the meek facade Sarah portrayed. Maybe he had misjudged the woman; first impressions weren't everything. He nodded and followed the woman to the door, reaching around to open it and the two looked up to see several faces peeking out from a gauntlet of doorframes. Sarah took a step back, bumping into the Mountie as he set his Stetson on his head before walking forward. "Do they always?"

"Yes. Good evening Mr. Campbell." The door didn't slam shut as fast as the elderly man smiled crookedly. "Mrs. Garcia." Moving through the hallway, Fraser paused at the stairway, Sarah a step behind him. "Are you sure?" He wondered briefly if he could carry her but immediately deemed that inappropriate. He looked sideways at her, the wide brim of his hat hiding his eyes.

"It helps ease the pain," she replied quietly and reached out for the rail. Wrapping her fingers tightly around the thin wood, she leaned against it and took a step down with her good leg, shifting the weight and brought her bad one down. Without her pack it was less difficult going down, but still too many steps. And of course she'd have to watch out for momentum. "It's a lot easier to walk the streets here then it is the snowy ones back home." She looked back to him on her third step to see Fraser smiling at her.

'''''''''''''

"Thank you kindly, Marie," The Mountie tipped his head towards the waitress that lead them to a table in Joan's Place café. Sarah trailed slowly in a limping gait, looking over everything. At the tail end of the dinner special, the restaurant was half filled, mostly with the regular customers that stopped for a cup of coffee before running out again.

"No problem, Fraser," the woman winked back and seated them at the usual table in front of the main window, overlooking the street. She set a couple of menu's down and swept off, her uniform swishing behind her as she slipped behind the counter to fill a couple of glasses with water.

Benton set his Stetson on the table beside him. He could have found something to eat at home but from what he seen from the woman in the short time at the District and within his own dwelling, a public place with no intimate setting would be a peaceable place to relax. "Comfortable?" He watched the woman settle herself, scooting his chair a little to his left to allow room for her to stretch out her leg if she desired.

"Fine," she answered and pushed the long sleeves of her shirt up to her elbow. Fraser took note of the lack of tan, consistent with wearing heavy down gear and her physical appearance. The faint images of his mother never seemed to get any darker, he recalled briefly before pushing them aside. He did pretty well at that. He said nothing about the faint burn on the outer edge of her hand. It looked at least a couple of weeks old.

Marie returned and set down the water and flipped her pen from behind her ear. She produced a tablet from her apron and waited poised. "What can I get you Fraser?" She tapped her pen against the tablet and looked through her hair sprayed bangs at the younger woman.

"May I?" He looked across to Sarah and picked up his menu. She nodded and he smiled at the waitress. "We'll just take the dinner special." He picked up the other menu and tapped them once on their edges before handing them back in perfect alignment.

Marie scribbled in her book. "And anything else for your… girlfriend?"

"Oh no, she's not my…"

"I'm not his…" The two said in unison and looked at each other.

"She's my-" Fraser dropped his gaze and looked back up at the waitress.

"I'm his-" Sarah glanced out the window, staring at the blurry reflection of the man across from her. "We're just… acquaintances," she finished in the uncomfortable silence and folded her hands in her lap and leaned back.

The auburn haired woman knew when it was a bad time for flirting and this deemed fit enough to walk away. As she did, she couldn't help but look one more time over her shoulder before she tore the order from her tablet and pinned it up. "Fraser's here," she yelled into the open alcove at the two cooks before heading off to another customer.

Sarah glued herself to the window, grateful for it. The lunch specials and flyers plastered on the outside created a sort of barrier but still allowed the dimming light of the fading sun in. She looked up to the thin line of sky between buildings and watched the dark cloud's edges turn different shades of bland orange, red and gold. Looked like another cloudy night since she entered the United States. "Its so hard to see the stars here."

"Pardon?" Benton leaned forward a little. He had heard her but was having trouble starting a conversation. How did one exactly talk to a person claiming to be family he's never heard of?

"The stars," Sarah looked back. "It's so clear back in Paulatuk. Actually, its clear anywhere once you get away from the cities. Here," she turned back to the window. "Even the air smells different, like it's old." She grew quiet.

"I remember spending many of my nights out in the open nights of the Yukon. I usually built a shelter; digging into the snow and ground for warmth but the night sky was beautiful." Benton followed the woman's gaze. "Like thousands of lanterns to guide you home."

A true smile appeared on the woman's face. "That's funny, my grandmother used-" A dark frown marred her features instantly and she propped her chin up on her hand and stared out the window, closing herself off to any further conversations. The sudden shift of her emotions surprised the Mountie

"Here you go sweetie," Marie returned with plates of food. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you kindly, Marie." He picked up his napkin and unfolded it tucking it into his Serge's collar. He dared not get anything on his formal uniform. As soon as he picked up his forked and stabbed it into a vegetable, his mind was not on the food before him. He was back to the question at hand, or essentially the woman at hand. He watched her continuously on purpose or not; it was a trait of his that seemed to be inbred. Just the way she sat, she guarded herself carefully but she didn't appear to always be like this. A weary face told of a weary past but her's seemed fresh. Her grandparent's death and revelation of newfound family held as secure evidence and more then enough to satisfy him, which brought him back to himself.

'Dad never spoke of family even after mom died.'

The metal brace pinched her leg and Sarah straightened it, mildly surprised at the room to do so. She rubbed the leather around her thigh, feeling the faint cracks. She'd have to get a new one soon, snowy weather wore the leather down fast. Poking at the food on her plate, her stomach grumbled in reply, demanding to be filled immediately but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Appetizing as it was, it just wasn't her grandmother's. Had even the simple meals been a lie? The woman held back a bitter sigh, the sting of tears forming told her to stop.

'Stop this nonsense, no use crying over something you can't change.'

Her grandmother's words. An ache advanced, settling tightly in her chest and she dropped her fork, sending a pea rolling across the table. Fraser raised his head at the clatter and glanced at the escaped vegetable that rolled to a stop in front of him. She wasn't even her grandmother anymore, just a complete stranger. Betrayal wormed its way into her heart and Sarah lifted her head and stared up at the Mountie.

"Are you…" her voice quivered and she hesitated before plunging onward. "Are you really my brother?"

That was the million-dollar question of the day, as Ray would put it. Benton swallowed the bite of chicken and set his silverware down. He met her gaze and looked down at his plate. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "My... mother died when I was young and there's very little that I remember of her." Truth hurt far worse the lies. There was so much he wanted to remember but with each day, he lost a little of her. What had truly been the last thing he remembered of her?

Sarah hadn't even considered the prospect of parents. The words Mom and Dad were as foreign to her as, well something foreign. She couldn't quite think of anything to match them up against and to hear that one had passed on, drained her of what little energy she was living off of. She pushed her plate away and set her elbows on the edge of the table, covering her face with her hands. Her shoulders sagged and the long trek of the trip finally overwhelmed her being.

Fraser tugged loose his napkin, dropping it on his plate. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" Sarah shook her head and sat up, her boots scuffing against the linoleum. "Then my home is your home tonight." He could see the argument already forming. "It's the least I can do right now and Dief would love the company." Sarah looked up with a faint smile and his mother was looking back at him.

–Notes from OMWOS–

Thank you Lucysmom for once again being my beta reader, you deserve many, many cookies

Again my love was rekindled for this. I just bought the Due South series, all of them at Best Buy and it's been a DS marathon for me.

Translations!

Maungarpok – Come here/ coming here. Not too sure as the Inuktitut language is extremely hard to learn, however not making excuses for my denseness


	5. Chapter 5

Ghosts

Disclaimer: Nope don't own them, but darn it if I did, I'd share with everyone. Idea and new charas are however mine. Due South is merely being used temporarily for fun and will be returned to it's rightful owner

Warnings: New charas, AU

Rated: PG-13

Archive: my own site and if any one wants to, they can put my story up on their site. As long as you give appropriate credit and tell me so I can check it out

-Notes- An AU that takes place before Victoria's Secret

Feedback: Most definitely welcome, I need it like I need oxygen... so give me life!

'Blah blah' - indicating thought

-------- - Indicating time change or memory

''''''''''''' - Indicating scene change

Hush my love now don't you cry

Everything will be all right

Close your eyes and drift in dream

Rest in peaceful sleep

- Lullaby, Creed

It was a quiet shuffling of clothes and doggy bags, a quick paying of the bill and the two Canadian's took the streets of Chicago. Fraser slowed his usual brisk walk to a wandering stroll. His boots crunched through yellow and red leaves that had fallen from a Maple tree from in a neighboring yard. It was odd to see the small sapling in the middle of a busy town, so out of place. He glanced at Sarah whose eyes were trained on the ground in front of her. She wound the plastic bag around her fingers tightly enough for them to turn purple before she shook the plastic loose, jangling the items inside. Then she'd repeat it.

It was a long quiet walk back to his apartment, with the interjection of city noises. Cars traveled the worn down asphalt roads like a herd of caribou seeking new land. An argument from a house they walked by followed by a man who stormed out, bumbling through the two and left in his car. The smell of burnt rubber left in his wake. A dog howled from an alleyway and Fraser was reminded of his own. He hoped Dief was being a good entertainer. Skyler seemed to take to the wolf better then he did with people.

Benton remained in respectable silence, despite his nature to talk and give advice. An Inuit story came to mind, but that would be saved for later. He opened the storm door of his building and followed Sarah through the narrow hallway, past the graffiti walls and to the bottom of the stairway. He caught the wistful look at the broken elevator before she reached out and gripped the railing for support.

"Are there always so many steps in Chicago?" She breathed. Every building she went to, there seemed to a minimum of five steps, despite the handicapped signs.

Fraser followed one step behind her. "Always. I've learned you've got to take them one at a time." The braid swung to the right as Sarah looked over her shoulder before continuing the dizzying ascent. Reaching his floor, they passed through the hallway but no faces appeared this time. By his count, several popular television shows were playing and kept most of the elderly community occupied. The moment he opened the door they were met by a loud crash. Instinctively he stepped in front of the woman and raised a hand to shield her and peered inside.

Icy blue eyes stared back from around the kitchen corner, followed by a second set. Skyler appeared with a dishtowel hanging from his collar and casually sat down, cocking his head to the side. Diefenbaker remained where he was, looking nonplussed at the reaction of the two people staring at him. He didn't do anything. The wolf trotted across the hallway, his fur dripping wet as he left a trail of water behind him. "Oh dear," Fraser muttered.

Sarah pushed past the outstretched arm and caught her first look at her canine. "Skyler!" Her voiced rose in surprise and disappointment and she slipped past the Mountie, dropping her food near her pack. Said canine looked up at her before his ears flattened and he lowered his head. Benton followed and moved into the kitchen, shutting off the sink's water just before it overflowed. He heard the annoyed scolding as Sarah appeared, slightly hunched over as she led her dog by the collar. She pushed him towards another room and with a sharp command he sat obediently.

Sarah straightened with the towel in hand and pushed back several wisps of hair from her face. "I'm so sorry." She looked around, surveying the damage that had been done. The table's chairs had all been overturned and several cabinets in the kitchen were open, what looked like several pieces of dog food littered the floor in a connect the dot fashion. Several cups and bowls added to the motif. "I don't know what got-" She gasped suddenly when Diefenbaker shook himself dry, sending droplets of water everywhere. There was no place to escape it.

Fraser wiped his brow and shook the beaded water from his Stetson before setting it down reverently on the kitchen counter. "No harm done," he answered truthfully. A few minutes of cleaning up was all that was needed and nothing looked broken. He bent and picked up several glasses, one had a chip but most of them were unscathed. Setting them on the counter to be rewashed later, he went off in search of a broom. If he recalled correctly, he was sure he left it in his closet. He glanced at the wilted Skyler as he walked past him, surprised to see Dief lying on the bed beside him. Was he sharing the blame or rubbing it in his face, it was hard to read the wolf's look.

Benton slid the closet door open carefully and grabbed the broom handle sticking out and returned to the kitchen to see Sarah using the counter as leverage to pick up a metal mixing bowl while balancing on her good leg. He watched her for a moment before setting to sweeping up the dog food. He pushed the kernels into a nice tidy pile before flipping the chairs upright.

"You can take my room tonight, I have a bed you can use too." He pushed the chairs under the table.

"I don't want to kick you out of your room," came the reply, but he was ready for it. He had picked up on a few of her mannerism, typically polite, a trait that seemed to spawn from being raised by grandparents.

"Nonsense, I insist. I'm quite used to sleeping on the floor." He set the broom against a nearby wall and picked up a trail of paper from an overturned trashcan and set it back in its place. "I need to take Diefenbaker out for a walk. I'm afraid I've been neglecting him for work. There's a room at the end of the hallway if you wish to wash up or shower." Fraser leaned in through the bedroom doorway. "Dief, let's go." He walked towards the door and picked up his hat and paused. Turning on his heels he walked back to the room and stood in front of his wolf. "Let's-" The wolf jumped up and trotted to the door, tail wagging and waiting. "…go."

Sighing, he placed his Stetson on his head. "I'll be back shortly." He nodded in reassurance at her when she looked up with a tentative gaze. Diefenbaker bumped the man's leg as if to remind him he didn't have hands to open the door and slipped through it the moment Fraser opened it. He dashed down the hallway and the steps, taking two at a time, eager to go outside. He could have easily jumped through the window but the other dog was a new addition to the city, he had to check him out.

Sarah stacked the last of the dishware she found by the sink before remembering she left her food by the door. Moving back to it, she placed her coat on a nearby peg and picked up her food and backpack and set them on the table, returning to the kitchen. Looking through several lower shelves, she reached under the sink and pulled out a dish rack and set to cleaning the dishes. It was more of a habit then anything. She turned to grab the bucket to the right when she realized she was not in her house. There was no need to heat up water here.

She flicked the faucet on and rolled up her sleeves, testing the water until it was hot enough. She watched the clear liquid swirl down the drain, resounding off of the porcelain walls before she pushed the stopper in and let it fill. Sarah found a rag and soap below the sink and set to washing the few dishes. Unconsciously she hummed a tuneless melody, murmuring an old song under her breath as she went over the last leg of her trip up to now. Her fingers traced around the chipped lip of the one glass before setting in aside of the others. With pruning fingers she set the last dish to dry and blinked in surprise at the sudden end of the chore. She could have sworn she standing there for only a minute. The woman took a step back shaking the soapy water from her hands before wiping them on the back of her pants. The small lapse of time was unsettling but she pushed that away, at least the dishes were done.

Sarah sighed and rubbed her forehead and pushed back the wisps of hair that wouldn't stay in the braid before scrubbing her fingers through the thick mane. She'd take the Mountie's offer of a shower. She really needed one. A couple of sniffs of her shirt reinforced that need to take a shower. Grabbing her pack, she hefted it one more time on her shoulder and picked up the doggy bag and walked through the hallway to the back bedroom.

Skyler raised his head from where he lay and shuffled to sit up when Sarah dropped her backpack on the corner of the bed and sank down on the mattress. She stretched out her legs, a smile tugged at her lips when her friend rested his chin on her knee and looked up at her. "No," she gave a shake of her head. "I'm not going to fall for that. What's with you?" The woman scratched him behind the ears. "We're guests here, Benton was nice enough to allow us to stay here for the night." She looked down at him. "You never act out like this, you know better." A low whine was her answer and Skyler wilted again only to perk up at the rustling of plastic.

"I shouldn't be giving you this, but I'm not going to eat it." Sarah sat the container down and listened to her dog eat. She was still hungry but couldn't bring herself to actually eat. She patted Skyler one last time on his side before reaching for her pack. She untied the sleeping bag and placed it near the foot of the bed and rummaged around for clothes. "Just because I don't want any, doesn't mean the both of us have to suffer. I'll be back Sky, you behave."

'''''''''''''

Fraser followed the trotting wolf down the darkening street. The sun was still up, but fading fast behind the tall buildings. The orange and red clouds were taking on a dusky tinge. Looked like a storm was heading their way, by the drop in the temperature, it'd be here within a few days by his guess. He watched Diefenbaker sniff along a trashcan before looking over his shoulder at his master, waiting for him to catch up. "Honestly Dief, what kind of hosts are we portraying if you're getting into mischief. You're the older one, set an example for the younger generation."

"Good evening," Benton nodded his head in the direction of two men who sat on the steps of a building. One returned the nod with a toast of a paper wrapped bottle. He saw beyond the rags and odd smells and saw the people of the street. They had aided him in apprehending criminals and the occasional lose wolf.

Dief padded over to the couple, looking for the normal treat and wagged his tail at the half of cookie he got. He gave an appreciative lick before heading off, keeping in step with the Mountie. The wolf glanced sideways at him, a tilt of his brow; he was ready to hear what Ben had to say. He could sense the subtle shift of emotions and thoughts, just because he didn't listen, didn't mean he couldn't.

Fraser looked down at his friend, sensing the wolf's eyes on him. "What?" A moment's breath and he knew the look. "No, there's nothing wrong." He tucked his hands behind his back as he turned the corner. 'Can she really be my sister? He never said anything about another child.' His father was always gone when he was a young boy, but he would never… would he? No. "She looks so much like her." Diefenbaker looked up from the newspaper he was sniffing; someone ate a powered doughnut before they dropped this.

He looked up past the flickering streetlight where moths waltzed with the warmth of the light. There was no mistaking his mother's smile. Fraser closed his eyes, a memory flittering forth like the dancing moths. An image of his mother, her clothes were always changing as if he couldn't remember what she wore, but he felt the heat of a fire against his face and the cold wind at his back. From across the burning embers, he saw her smile and then she laughed. He might have been five years old at the time and he recalled thinking that was the most wonderful thing he could hear.

A sharp bark made him turn towards his wolf. He sat on the corner waiting for him to head back. While he daydreamed, Dief decided to walk himself and he was done and ready to head home. Fraser sighed and looked at the wispy breath of air that vanished above him. It was getting colder every day, fall would eventually slip into winter and before he'd know it, there'd be several inches of snow. That was when he was the most homesick. Diefenbaker huffed and growled, only moving till Fraser started back, lost in his thoughts.

She could have been misinformed, but that was highly unlikely if it was stated in a legitimate document. He had not read the will; Ray still had it on him. It never occurred that she would lie, he had nothing valuable or importance with him. He was a simple man of the North. Tomorrow he would go back to the District and ask Ray for it. Benton headed into his building and climbed the stairs, the white wolf just ahead of him, moving fast. Making the last dizzying circle around the stairwell, he heard barking, but it wasn't of his wolf.

Fraser jogged the last leg and saw Sarah coming from the bathroom. She limped painfully, her hands full. Her freshly washed hair hung braid free to her lower back. She wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans, obviously too big. She smiled hesitantly at Diefenbaker and held out an open hand. He sniffed it before nudging at the leather on her brace near her hip.

"Diefenbaker." Benton shot out in a warning tone but the wolf ignored him to push again against the strap. Sarah tensed and the wolf pulled away before looking over his shoulder at the excited bark that came behind the closed door at the end of the hallway. There was way too much tension going on in this building.

"Diefenbaker, Dief." Short of waving his arms madly to gain the attention of his wolf, Fraser attempted to talk to him before giving up. "He never listens to me anymore."

After the initial wariness wore off, she looked back to the Mountie. "Sounds too much like Skyler," Sarah replied hugging her folded clothes to her chest. "He's really a puppy at heart but he likes to ignore most people."

Benton nodded his head and pulled his Stetson off his head and tucked it under his arm. He gestured for Sarah to walk ahead of him before he followed. The two sounded too much like each other. "I'm sure," he lowered his voice when the wolf trotted after them. "He'd have better manners if he wasn't deaf."

"He's deaf?"

"Oh yes. He burst his eardrums while jumping into the Prince Rupert Sound a few years back. He uses that as a crutch even though he can read lips."

"Oh." Sarah leaned against the wall as Fraser opened the door revealing a perturbed and rather miffed Skyler. The Mountie stopped and turned sideways to let the woman through and caught the flicker of pain. In doing so, the Malamute's brow lifted to look from mistress to stranger and back again. His fur was already ruffling along his neck but was quickly silenced with a sharp wave of a hand from a fed up Sarah.

"Are you all right?" Benton touched her gently on the elbow. "Is there anything I can do." He offered his arm for support.

"There's nothing anyone can do." She looked at the man, having to tilt her head up to do so and the frown melted. "That sounded a little too melodramatic." She accepted the arm gratefully. Now was no time for pride to get in the way. She limped a few steps before continuing on her own. "I'm fine really." She answered the steady gaze. "I've dealt with my mistake for a long time now." Sarah sank appreciatively onto the bed and looked up at the man standing at the doorframe. Now that she opened her mouth, a explanation was in order.

She started with a slow shake of her head. "Femoral nerve dysfunction. At least that's the technical term for it. I call it stupidity of a kid." Skyler pushed his way past the Mountie and dropped to the floor with a groan of his own. He wiggled under the woman's left leg as if to use his body to prop up the limb and ease any ache. Sarah tucked her good leg under her and fiddled with the laces of her boot. "It was winter and I wanted to go sledding. I was maybe twelve years old. I was quite the unruly adolescent." Her lips tightened into a smile and her eyelids dropped, lost in a memory.

"Charlie, he was my best friend, went with me and we decided to go sledding near an old coal mine. It had been closed for years but all the older children played there." She was back to fiddling with the long laces. "We were there for hours and it got dark and we decided to head back after one last trip." She rubbed the heel of her hand against the top of her thigh. "Charlie lost control of the sled and we crashed. He was okay, but during our numerous trips down, the sled had unearthed an old beam from the mine."

Fraser had crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the frame to listen in. "I snapped my leg in two. The femur had splintered and a shard had wedged itself against the femoral nerve. The doctors missed it the first time and by the time I was able to take the cast off, the damage had been done." She patted the leather. "Tried surgery but I lost most of the feeling in my calf."

"I'm sorry."

Sarah looked up at the Mountie. "So was Charlie." She grinned suddenly, a happy moment of reminiscences. "Gave me the most prized possession a thirteen year old could possess. His Curling broom."

Benton ducked his head to hide his amused smile. "I have to work the early shift tomorrow at the Consulate." He straightened. "If you'd like, we could talk some more afterwards."

"That'd be nice."

Fraser tipped his head. "Good night Sarah."

"… Night Benton." The woman watched the Mountie disappear and instantly Skyler shuffled to his feet and huffed it up onto the bed, sinking into the soft mattress, one paw stretched out to touch the woman's side. He pushed at her and rolled his eyes up when she scratched him across the ribcage. "All right you lazy bum," she whispered before bending down to untie her boots.

Ben grabbed his bedding before heading off. Diefenbaker followed and as soon as the blankets were laid out, he plopped himself down and watched his master disrobe of the outfit. He watched in silence as he walked towards the kitchen and came back, heading towards the other room and walked back before settling down next to the wolf. Dief yawned and lowered his head, drifting off into doggy dreamland.

After discarding her boots and brace, Sarah pushed herself back to rest against the wall. Her leg completely limp without the support of the metal and leather, it bent oddly as she moved. She tucked her leg up and wrapped her arms around it, crossing them at the wrist. Skyler wiggled around her before exhaling noisily and was instantly out. Sarah leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling, making out shapes in the cracks that littered it.

In the other room, Fraser laid back and tucked his hands under his head. Beside him the lantern he retrieved from the kitchen flickered casting shadows across the walls. The sun had completely waned from the sanctity of the clouds and now slumbered peacefully. Dief snored, his ears twitching in his sleep. Shadows danced and Ben shifted to his side and blew gently against the flame. Darkness filled the room like a steady silence and the Mountie closed his eyes before lulling off.

–Notes from OMWOS–

Thank you Lucysmom for once again being my beta reader, you deserve many, many cookies

A bit of an odd chapter, slightly different then my original plans. It took on a mind of it's own, but extremely happy with it. And surprises, no Inuit translation for me. Hooray! And I rather enjoyed writing Diefenbaker in this chapter


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